By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
For numerous reasons, both auspicious and not, “The Dark Knight” has been burdened with anticipation—forced to outdo any film in the Batman series and perhaps even in the superhero genre. The unique atmosphere surrounding this film has only born questions to further inflate expectations. Could the late Heath Ledger win an Oscar? Could this be the best superhero movie of all time? If box office numbers decided these questions, the golden statue would have been engraved two weeks ago. But putting aside questions, expectations, hopes, genre, history and tragedies, “The Dark Knight” lived up to itself, and surpassed itself, as a truly great movie.
In “The Dark Knight,” Batman (Christian Bale) is attempting to subdue Gotham’s crime, but the riffraff of criminality mixed with complications associated with his own imitators keep the superhero distracted and disillusioned. It is Batman’s belief that what the city needs is a police infrastructure, not a vigilante warrior. At just the right moment, Harvey Dent (Aaaron Eckhart) becomes Gotham’s new district attorney, swearing to be tough on crime and pledging to pull no punches. The presence of this impressive new addition to the city’s crime-fighting force is immediately felt—scores of big-time criminals are put behind bars.
Batman, who was feeling stretched thin, is pleased with what he is seeing from Dent and looks forward to stepping down as Gotham’s crime-fighting hero. However, a new kind of criminal comes on the scene. Calling himself the Joker (Heath Ledger), this scarred, painted, greasy-haired maniac is true to his name, perpetrating his crimes for the mere pleasure of it all. At first, Batman and Dent downplay the importance of the Joker, but when the latter ups the ante by throwing the city into chaos, Batman is called back into action.
The Joker is far more sophisticated than the average criminal, or even the average villain. He is clever, diabolical and at least two steps ahead of everyone, including Batman. What is more disturbing about the Joker is that he is not interested in money, revenge or any sensible objective. He claims to want nothing more than to have Batman unmasked, but in the end all he wants is to make a game out of killing and chaos. Make no mistake, the Joker is refined and ideological, but paradoxically, in a nihilistic sort of way. He has a purpose and a plan—a way he wants things to unfold—while at the same time not ultimately caring, even for his own life. He wants to show that “everything burns,” and what better way to do that than to send a city of 30 million inhabitants into anarchy?
The mayhem brought on by the Joker causes Batman, Dent, Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal, Bruce Wayne’s perennial love and Dent’s current girlfriend) and the police department to re-evaluate their ideology, their values and what they are willing to do to win the war against the Joker. The truly terrifying fact is that defeating the Joker does not come down to putting him behind bars or killing him, for the Joker would gladly submit himself to either, so long as the images of the heroes and shining faces of the city go down with him.
This film begins as a fairly commonplace, action-packed superhero movie, but by the end, it transformed itself into a thought-provoking, profound social commentary. In particular, the concepts evoked by the Joker are startling and sinister. He is a true Nietzschean villain: he believes in nothing, and so determines to make his life a work of art. He unmasks all the hypocrisy and false ideology typical of any organized society—hoping to cause its very structure to crumble.
Heath Ledger does a truly remarkable job as the Joker, and the rest of the cast is fairly good. Christian Bale is good, but not as good as he could be or has been in other roles. Aaron Eckhart was just O.K., as was Maggie Gyllenhaal. Gary Oldman as Lt. James Gordon was perhaps second only to Heath Ledger in quality of performance.
This movie is fast, thrilling and dramatic. It keeps the audience on the edge of their seats and causes them to feel the ups and downs of the plot as if they were personally involved in the story. With superhero movies currently all the rage, “The Dark Knight” is the only one that stands above the rest—the only superhero movie that surpasses the genre.
“The Dark Knight” is rated PG-13 for intense sequences of violence and some menace.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
"Mongol"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
“Do not scorn a weak cub; he may become a brutal tiger.” Most individuals have heard the name Genghis Kahn, but few have heard of Temudjin. Likewise, and true to the Mongolian proverb which prefaces “Mongol,” most individuals know the protagonist of this Best Foreign Film nominee as a brutal tiger, not the weak cub who was once scorned. Although this story of Genghis Kahn’s rise to power is surely a fictional portrayal, “Mongol” is a genuine cultural experience, both charming and alarming.
Temudjin is a proud and disciplined young boy whose father is a Kahn, the leader of his clan. Temudjin’s future seems certain: he will choose a wife and rule the clan in prosperity. However, when the Temudjin’s father suddenly dies on the way home from a trip to help find his son a wife, the headstrong boy’s secure future dies as well. Instead of becoming the young Kahn, Temudjin is immersed in a dangerous environment more suitable for experienced warriors. Temudjin is driven from his home and left for dead. Yet with the aid of an unexpected friend, the rightful Kahn returns, but only to be captured and made a slave.
The next few decades of Temudjin’s life are a struggle to stay alive, to stay free and to grab what is his. He fights his enemies as well as his friends, making sure to form plenty of grudges along the way. In this Mongolian culture, everything is transitory. What is yours is that which you are strong enough to take. Whether it is horses or a wife, property and relationships trade hands as often as territories in a game of Risk—often as if settled by a roll of the dice. At one and the same time, Temudjin learns to both embrace and scorn this way of life. He believes his wife and his horses are his own, yet he often shows a willingness to play the power struggle game, and in the process endangers that which he holds precious. A very fine line between greatness and great failure develops, and if the audience did not know how the story turned out, they might have wondered whether Temudjin was destined to be a king or a slave.
This film only reveals glimpses of Temudjin as Genghis Kahn, the king of all the kings; a man who expresses his desire to bring law to Mongolians, even if he has to kill half of them. Herein lies a central ideological conflict that remains unsettled. Was Genghis Kahn’s legacy positive because he brought order to mayhem, or was it negative because he was part of the mayhem—perhaps the most brutal part? Which is worse, anarchy or dictatorship? These unresolved conflicts are intentional and important. The tagline for this movie, “Greatness comes to those who take it,” appropriately portrays Temudjin, with all his moral complication, as a great man for his willful persistence and disciplined focus.
In addition to being a unique ideological experience, the setting and production of this film is sharp and beautiful. Not since “The Lord of the Rings” has scenery in a movie been this appealing. However, “Mongol” also had its flaws. Those who come to see Genghis Kahn the warrior will be mostly disappointed. This movie is slow and sometimes sprawling, punctuated with a few fast-paced battle scenes. The film’s transitory feel is critical to its themes, but at times this sensation causes detachment from the audience and hurts the logical flow of the story. “Mongol” will always be interesting, but you may have to be in the right mood to enjoy it.
“Mongol” is rated R for sequences of bloody warfare.
Coastal View News
“Do not scorn a weak cub; he may become a brutal tiger.” Most individuals have heard the name Genghis Kahn, but few have heard of Temudjin. Likewise, and true to the Mongolian proverb which prefaces “Mongol,” most individuals know the protagonist of this Best Foreign Film nominee as a brutal tiger, not the weak cub who was once scorned. Although this story of Genghis Kahn’s rise to power is surely a fictional portrayal, “Mongol” is a genuine cultural experience, both charming and alarming.
Temudjin is a proud and disciplined young boy whose father is a Kahn, the leader of his clan. Temudjin’s future seems certain: he will choose a wife and rule the clan in prosperity. However, when the Temudjin’s father suddenly dies on the way home from a trip to help find his son a wife, the headstrong boy’s secure future dies as well. Instead of becoming the young Kahn, Temudjin is immersed in a dangerous environment more suitable for experienced warriors. Temudjin is driven from his home and left for dead. Yet with the aid of an unexpected friend, the rightful Kahn returns, but only to be captured and made a slave.
The next few decades of Temudjin’s life are a struggle to stay alive, to stay free and to grab what is his. He fights his enemies as well as his friends, making sure to form plenty of grudges along the way. In this Mongolian culture, everything is transitory. What is yours is that which you are strong enough to take. Whether it is horses or a wife, property and relationships trade hands as often as territories in a game of Risk—often as if settled by a roll of the dice. At one and the same time, Temudjin learns to both embrace and scorn this way of life. He believes his wife and his horses are his own, yet he often shows a willingness to play the power struggle game, and in the process endangers that which he holds precious. A very fine line between greatness and great failure develops, and if the audience did not know how the story turned out, they might have wondered whether Temudjin was destined to be a king or a slave.
This film only reveals glimpses of Temudjin as Genghis Kahn, the king of all the kings; a man who expresses his desire to bring law to Mongolians, even if he has to kill half of them. Herein lies a central ideological conflict that remains unsettled. Was Genghis Kahn’s legacy positive because he brought order to mayhem, or was it negative because he was part of the mayhem—perhaps the most brutal part? Which is worse, anarchy or dictatorship? These unresolved conflicts are intentional and important. The tagline for this movie, “Greatness comes to those who take it,” appropriately portrays Temudjin, with all his moral complication, as a great man for his willful persistence and disciplined focus.
In addition to being a unique ideological experience, the setting and production of this film is sharp and beautiful. Not since “The Lord of the Rings” has scenery in a movie been this appealing. However, “Mongol” also had its flaws. Those who come to see Genghis Kahn the warrior will be mostly disappointed. This movie is slow and sometimes sprawling, punctuated with a few fast-paced battle scenes. The film’s transitory feel is critical to its themes, but at times this sensation causes detachment from the audience and hurts the logical flow of the story. “Mongol” will always be interesting, but you may have to be in the right mood to enjoy it.
“Mongol” is rated R for sequences of bloody warfare.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
"WALL-E"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Whether it is toys, bugs or monsters; fish, cars or rats, Pixar Studios has turned the unconscious conscious by cleverly animating the inanimate. In WALL-E, Pixar took the next step in humanization, turning a post-apocalyptic dystopia into a charming adventure with a moral punch. WALL-E gives audiences everything they have reason to expect from Pixar, and even a bit more.
WALL-E is a garbage man, trash compactor and architect rolled into one rusted-over, sentimental machine. He wakes up in the morning (reboots), grabs a nice, hot dose of solar energy, and then sets off to work with his plastic lunch pale and cockroach friend. His job, his directive, is to clean up the trash heap that is Earth. He chugs across cities of garbage, picks a few morsels up, tosses them into his stomach compartment and mashes the trash into a neat little cube, which he then stacks into enormous, refuse skyscrapers. WALL-E also has a personal life, which is time spent cataloging insignificant treasures from the rubbish heaps while longing for humanesque contact.
The lonely world of WALL-E is rocked when a giant rocket lands into his life, right on top of his life. Out comes Eve, a shiny, spectacular and grossly intimidating babe of a robot. While Eve is buzzing around in search of her directive, WALL-E is a puppy dog, following her all over, hoping to get noticed by this dreamy cyborg while managing to look like a banged-up old klutz. Eventually Eve takes notice, finds WALL-E’s plain and unassuming nature charming, and a relationship develops.
Yet just when things are going perfectly for WALL-E, Eve unconsciously clams up and the rocket returns, snatching her back into space. But WALL-E is not about to let the best thing that ever happened to him just fly off. He clings to the side of the rocket ship and flies across the universe, ending up at an even larger space vessel. WALL-E, a cantankerous old simpleton of a robot, is introduced to a comfort-driven, automated society as if sprung from the pages of a Huxley novel. Grossly overweight humans ride around on flying chairs with video screens plastered in front of them. Everything is streamlined and automatic, making life outside the video screen unnecessary and uncomfortable. WALL-E has far more personality—seems like much less of an automaton—than these vapid Homo sapiens.
WALL-E never loses sight of his primary mission—reunification with Eve—but along the way plays an integral role in another mission. By being his same, old, outdated self, WALL-E opens the eyes of the bloated passengers and helps them take their first steps toward liberation from self-indulgent complacence. All he wanted was a companion, but WALL-E shows the depth of his character once he realizes that the universe’s problems are larger than his own.
The employees of Pixar Studios are masters of the human simile: they have a knack for making any ordinary object seem like a real person replete with idiosyncratic quirks and foibles. It is intrinsically amusing to see a rusty trash compacter buzz around like a human, as if specific human needs and desires could be directly translated into the robot world. Instead of a cup of coffee, for example, an energizing zap of solar power gets WALL-E going each morning.
Beyond the animation and the simile, Pixar knows how to tell a great story and WALL-E is no exception. But even beyond the storyline, WALL-E has a message that is more specific and more profound than the average moral truisms expressed in most animated features. The true accomplishment of this film is that it garners the perspective and meaning of the best dystopia stories without losing the Pixar charm.
Comparing Pixar’s nine films is like comparing the SAT scores of Harvard students, but if a comparison had to be done, WALL-E would be somewhere in the middle, perhaps above Cars and A Bug’s Life, but below Finding Nemo and Toy Story. WALL-E might not be quite as endearing or constantly engaging as some of the others, but its strength of message bumps it up a few notches. Like all Pixar films, this is definitely a movie to see again and again.
Coastal View News
Whether it is toys, bugs or monsters; fish, cars or rats, Pixar Studios has turned the unconscious conscious by cleverly animating the inanimate. In WALL-E, Pixar took the next step in humanization, turning a post-apocalyptic dystopia into a charming adventure with a moral punch. WALL-E gives audiences everything they have reason to expect from Pixar, and even a bit more.
WALL-E is a garbage man, trash compactor and architect rolled into one rusted-over, sentimental machine. He wakes up in the morning (reboots), grabs a nice, hot dose of solar energy, and then sets off to work with his plastic lunch pale and cockroach friend. His job, his directive, is to clean up the trash heap that is Earth. He chugs across cities of garbage, picks a few morsels up, tosses them into his stomach compartment and mashes the trash into a neat little cube, which he then stacks into enormous, refuse skyscrapers. WALL-E also has a personal life, which is time spent cataloging insignificant treasures from the rubbish heaps while longing for humanesque contact.
The lonely world of WALL-E is rocked when a giant rocket lands into his life, right on top of his life. Out comes Eve, a shiny, spectacular and grossly intimidating babe of a robot. While Eve is buzzing around in search of her directive, WALL-E is a puppy dog, following her all over, hoping to get noticed by this dreamy cyborg while managing to look like a banged-up old klutz. Eventually Eve takes notice, finds WALL-E’s plain and unassuming nature charming, and a relationship develops.
Yet just when things are going perfectly for WALL-E, Eve unconsciously clams up and the rocket returns, snatching her back into space. But WALL-E is not about to let the best thing that ever happened to him just fly off. He clings to the side of the rocket ship and flies across the universe, ending up at an even larger space vessel. WALL-E, a cantankerous old simpleton of a robot, is introduced to a comfort-driven, automated society as if sprung from the pages of a Huxley novel. Grossly overweight humans ride around on flying chairs with video screens plastered in front of them. Everything is streamlined and automatic, making life outside the video screen unnecessary and uncomfortable. WALL-E has far more personality—seems like much less of an automaton—than these vapid Homo sapiens.
WALL-E never loses sight of his primary mission—reunification with Eve—but along the way plays an integral role in another mission. By being his same, old, outdated self, WALL-E opens the eyes of the bloated passengers and helps them take their first steps toward liberation from self-indulgent complacence. All he wanted was a companion, but WALL-E shows the depth of his character once he realizes that the universe’s problems are larger than his own.
The employees of Pixar Studios are masters of the human simile: they have a knack for making any ordinary object seem like a real person replete with idiosyncratic quirks and foibles. It is intrinsically amusing to see a rusty trash compacter buzz around like a human, as if specific human needs and desires could be directly translated into the robot world. Instead of a cup of coffee, for example, an energizing zap of solar power gets WALL-E going each morning.
Beyond the animation and the simile, Pixar knows how to tell a great story and WALL-E is no exception. But even beyond the storyline, WALL-E has a message that is more specific and more profound than the average moral truisms expressed in most animated features. The true accomplishment of this film is that it garners the perspective and meaning of the best dystopia stories without losing the Pixar charm.
Comparing Pixar’s nine films is like comparing the SAT scores of Harvard students, but if a comparison had to be done, WALL-E would be somewhere in the middle, perhaps above Cars and A Bug’s Life, but below Finding Nemo and Toy Story. WALL-E might not be quite as endearing or constantly engaging as some of the others, but its strength of message bumps it up a few notches. Like all Pixar films, this is definitely a movie to see again and again.
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